


A Temporary Matter

by summerartist



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-08
Updated: 2015-01-08
Packaged: 2018-03-06 15:27:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3139373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/summerartist/pseuds/summerartist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bashir has a minor human issue that he tries to keep from Garak. Fluffy fic</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Temporary Matter

Doctor Bashir was held up in the infirmary fifteen minutes past his break time. He was making certain that all Starfleet and Bajoran personnel had received their monthly vaccines.

“Computer, compile a databank in order of most recent vaccination patients for the Temachloridan vaccine.”

“Processing…” The medical bay computer answered him.

Bashir’s diaphragm unexpectedly contracted and his chest shuddered as he gave a large hiccup. He frowned. It felt like it had been ages since he had gotten a bad case. Usually, his genetic enhancements allowed him to control every part of his body. He could slow his heartbeat, or even adjust his brain activity. For some obscure reason, hiccups were uncontrollable. They were an evolutionary oddity that not even enhancements could suppress.

“Process complete.” The computer informed him.

“Computer, displ-hic-display on main laboratory consule.” Julian winced.

“Failure to comply. Please repeat request.”

Taking a deep breath, the doctor tried again. “Computer, -hic-!”

“Failure to comply. Please r-“

Julian jabbed a button until the computer cut off its voice prompting system. He typed in his request until the data flashed up on the screen. The dilemma continued and the expanding of his diaphragm increased until his entire body shuddered with every contraction of air. A note appeared on the side of his screen along with the vaccine databank. It was a reminder he had left himself in case he became too intent on his work. It was a notice that he was to have lunch with Garak today.

“Oh no-hic-“ He covered his mouth as the powerful hiccup rocked through him.

He was late, though perhaps not too late. If he went to the Replimat now there was still a chance that he might catch Garak.  Julian leapt up and locked out of the computer system. He strode quickly out of the infirmary and navigated his way through the crowd on the promenade. He kept his mouth firmly shut. He could not suppress the sounds completely and any effort to do so merely resulted in a peculiar whining noise in the back of his throat. His abdomen was beginning to ache from the repeated contractions.

He silently prayed that they would end before he reached the Replimat. Garak would never let him hear the end of it if he showed up hiccuping like a drunkard. He would probably smile that charmingly sweet smile of his when he found something worth teasing him about.

At last, Julian reached their weekly luncheon venue and scanned the tables for his Cardassian friend. Garak sat reading with a nearly empty cup of red leaf tea in front of him and a plate that was half full. Whatever he had ordered had liberal amounts of Yamok sauce. Bashir could smell it all the way from across the promenade.

“Gar-HIC!”

The tailor’s head shot up, eyes wide. It felt as if half of the diners started staring in his direction. Shoulders slightly slumped, Bashir plodded forward and went over to the nearest replicator. He ordered juice and curry with naan. He put in a request for the smallest serving size available. He did not think he could eat much with the way these cursed contractions were rippling through his diaphragm.  Elim smiled as the doctor seated himself. The tailor’s eyes scanned him.

“I’m sorry about the-hic-wait.” Ouch. That one felt as though it jolted the lining of his stomach and lungs.

Garak beamed. “It was no hardship. It often proves to be an interesting experience.”

“Really?-Hic!”

_Perhaps he could just hire Garak to assassinate him and put him out of his misery._

“Indeed. I don’t think I’ve been so thoroughly entertained before,”  the Cardassian said playfully. Bashir interrupted Garak with another hiccup. His entire body shuddered.

Elim continued on in a droll tone as though he was watching an outdated holo-vid performance. “Since you don’t appear to be alarmed over this occurrence, I would assume that those sounds you are emitting are normal?”

“Yes and no.”

“They sound painful.” The first sliver of sympathy started peeking through his calm veneer.

Bashir merely nodded as he gulped in air.

“Can’t you stop making them?” Garak asked curiously.

“No, they’re involuntary. Haven’t you ever hiccuped before?” The doctor hurriedly shut his mouth as another strained breath of air rocked through him.

“Hiccuped? I’m not sure if my universal translator caught that correctly.”

“Cardassians don’t hiccup? Oh, of course they wouldn’t. I-hic-damn!” Julian’s eyes were starting to water as the shaking went deeper through him. His throat was feeling stretched and sore.

“Would you care to continue this discussion in private? You’re attracting quite an audience.” Garak glanced around with a single sweep of his eyes.

Bashir nodded . He moved to pick up his tray only to find that Garak had picked it up for him.

“What...?“

“I sincerely doubt the merits of your balance with your insides attempting to rattle you apart every five seconds,” the Cardassian remarked tersely.

“I-hic-it isn’t that bad.” His reassurance was rendered ineffectual by the groan that followed it.

The two had started making their way across the promenade toward Garak’s shop.

“If you should need to use me for support, I can take your weight as well.” Elim offered him his arm.

The effect was instantaneous. Bashir laughed.

“They’re just hiccups. Though it feels like I’m dy-dying-hic-I’m actually not.”

Julian had never seen his alien friend so confused. The Cardassian did not know what having hiccups entailed, so he had become overly solicitous. It was oddly endearing.

“It doesn’t sound particularly healthy. The way you’re gasping for air between sounds indicates to other species that you’re suffocating.”

“That’s because my glottis, also known as my vocal chords, are closing my airway off. It’s making it hard to-hic-ow.” Bashir gave a pained moan.

“We’ve arrived.”

Julian keyed open the door to let the Cardassian through. Elim set down their trays on the edge of one of his sewing tables. He hastily cleared it off.

“Now that we no longer have an audience, will you tell me about your condition? How long will it last?” Garak came up to him, gaze roaming over Julian’s jumping abdomen and chest to his pained facial features.

“I don’t know. Either-“ He paused to swallow down another noise. “Either I find a common cure or they’ll quit on their own.”

Elim tilted his head, a thoughtful look in his eyes. “What cures exist? Surely if this condition is considered normal in your species, then there must be some way of stopping it.”

Julian nodded, wincing more. He was beginning to get a headache. “There are many cures, but the simplest one is to relax.-HIC- They don’t usually get this bad.”

He stopped talking when he felt chilled fingers touch his neck.

“Relaxation, you say? Perhaps this will help.” Garak’s fingers slipped down Julian’s throat and rubbed soothing circles into the back of his shoulders.

“That feels nice, but I don’t think that will stop them.” As comforting as Garak’s touch was, the rubbing sensation focused him on how much his body was jolted with every exhalation.

Elim gave a small hiss as the quandary of curing the human became harder.

“I’ve never found drinking water to h-“ Bashir attempted to continue.

“Stop talking,” Garak admonished him.

Bashir was taken aback by his harshness. He opened his mouth to give a verbal rebuke. Garak suddenly grasped his wrist and tugged him towards a space behind his changing stalls. A waiting bench sat next to the interior wall. Julian sat down and looked up at Garak expectantly. Instead of moving about, the Cardassian merely sank down beside him.

“We could have sat down at the Replimat.-Hic!-“

Fed up with the pain, Bashir pressed his face into his hands. “Get a phaser and shoot me.”

Garak gave an unexpected chuckle. “Oh doctor, surely it isn’t that bad.”

“It is!”

The Cardassian shifted closer to him, comforting bulk pressing shoulder to shoulder with the doctor.

“I sincerely doubt that. Here you are in the tranquility of my shop and in pleasant company.”

Bashir’s incredulous snort turned into a hiccup.

Garak frowned. “I fail to see how I’ve upset you.”

“I’m bloody-hic-suffering, and you just sit there calmly-“Julian started to retort.

There was a gasp of air, a rustle of fabric, and the quiet hum of a contented Cardassian. Bashir felt fingers thread through his hair and then Elim’s arm moved down to wrap around his back. Julian was being pressed into Garak’s shoulder. The thick material of the Cardassian’s tunic was soft against his cheek. Elim held him in a snug embrace.

“I-er-ermm”

“Very eloquent, doctor.” The tailor teased him.

“Why…?” Julian began.

Garak continued to hold him close. “My species is more tactile than yours. I have respected your human boundaries, but the simple fact of the matter is that I sometimes find distancing myself distasteful.”

“Are you saying that Cardassians like to hug?” Julian stared at him as though Garak had just announced that he was going to kiss Gul Dukat.

“Hug or embrace? No. I am doing it for the benefit of your human niceties. Cardassians prefer to interlock fingers or shins. Twining a single arm around the back is very common. It occurs daily with our closest associates, usually family or adoptive family,” the tailor explained.

Julian gave a quiet hum. “That sounds pleasant. I expect half-reptiles like Cardassians would need to practice closer physical relationships as a means of survival. It would keep you comfortable, whereas mammalian species would overheat.”

Julian did not wriggle out of the firm grip. It was not every day that he was allowed in close personal contact with someone. How long had it been since he had been held like this? Even his romantic interests did not embrace him this way. It was so…relaxing.

“Garak?”

“Hmm?”

Julian debated internally with himself for a moment. If he said that his hiccups were cured, Garak might pull away. So instead he settled on: “I think I like your Cardassian customs.”

The tailor smiled. “I thought you might. I seem to startle you every time I touch you. You give off the aura of someone who solicits physical contact for work purposes, but rarely receives it in turn. “

Julian’s eidetic memory pulled up images of Garak’s first few touches and flirtatious words. The doctor had nearly jumped out of his skin. He had stuttered and fumbled through the social interactions until they became better acquainted and started having lunches together. Since then, Garak had touched him less intimately, but more often.

“Garak, have you been trying to woo me?”

 _Oh, why had he said that?_ Julian squeezed his eyes shut. He felt the Cardassian take a deep breath. _This is it. Garak is going to push me away or make me leave his shop._

“Would you like me to?” The tailor had not moved from his position. He said the words with forced calm.

Bashir froze. “I asked you a question first.”

“You seem unsure.”

“So do you.” Julian countered. “But you’re supposed to be curing me of hiccups, not inducing them.”

Garak tightened his arms around him, shifting them into a more comfortable position. “How remiss of me. We can’t let that happen.”

The discussion subsided into awkward silence. The doctor attempted to carry on the conversation.

Julian laughed. “I’m surprised you haven’t heard a human hiccup at Quark’s or have an accidental bout in your shop. It’s an odd coincidence.”

The Cardassian pulled away just enough to look at him. His eyes were twinkling with secret merriment. Julian’s jaw dropped.

“You knew what they were all along! That’s why you smuggled me in here so that you could cure them.”

Garak smiled with pride at his pupil. “That was one of my chief reasons for bringing you here.”

“You’re sly,” Julian grumbled. He was not appreciative of playing the fool.

Garak huffed a laugh. “My dear doctor, that’s the most sincere compliment you’ve ever paid me.”

The Cardassian’s pleased expression seemed to slowly warm the doctor and he felt a surge of fondness for his companion. Julian unexpectedly leaned forward and kissed the tip of Garak’s nose. It was nothing more than a small press of his warm mammalian mouth. Garak blinked.

“Quite scaly,” the doctor said smugly.

“Was that your way of giving me another compliment, or were you making an observation?” The tailor raised an eye ridge. Elim’s breathing was speeding up and he suddenly found that holding Julian close was doing nothing for his determination to remain calm and collected.

“Doctor, are you certain you want to do this?” Garak’s tone had a sharp edge to it.

On Cardassia, physical contact like this might be looked upon as very friendly, but not necessarily intimate. Garak was aware that Bashir’s human customs dictated that this sort of contact generally indicated something more.

Julian sighed contentedly. “Yes, it’s very nice. Why? Are you feeling uncomfortable?”

The Cardassian groaned. “Far from it, but you have a way of making this situation too pleasant. I’m uncertain if you know what you’re getting into.” Julian was clinging like a limpet to his upper body and his warm breath ghosted over Elim’s neck.

The Cardassian reached up and gently pried him off.

“Garak!”

The tailor stood. “I apologize for having to cut this session short. The fact of the matter is that you are yearning for contact of a platonic kind. I cannot provide that.”

Julian nearly growled at the loss of warmth and touch. “What if I want more than that? You can’t presume to know my mind, Garak.”

“Perhaps, but I know when you are uncertain about something, doctor.”

Bashir knew that his friend was right. There were so many political and personal ramifications for this situation. He had to be absolutely certain. Elim offered him a hand up and Julian took it. The doctor’s shoulders were hunched as he stood there, as if embarrassed or ashamed. Garak leaned forward and gave him a reciprocal kiss on the nose. The human was startled out of his unpleasant revere.

“I’m certain that I don’t have to remind you that brooding is not the same as thinking something over. I will not reject your company the moment you say ‘no,’ nor will I force you into a situation should you agree to a closer relationship. I may not have your unrealistic Federation ideals, but I maintain a sense of common decency.” The tailor held his gaze.

They stood there for a moment, glad of the peaceful atmosphere. For now they were at a standstill that promised that they would not pressure each other. Garak had a feeling that their arrangement would reach a conclusion soon. For now, they both needed time.

 Bashir quirked an unexpected smile. “Tailoring, spying, gardening, and now an expert on curing hiccups? You’re a man of many talents.”

“I’m always glad to be of service, my dear doctor,” Garak said sincerely. “Should you ever need a new suit, someone to calm the muscles around your vocal chords, or something more personal…”

“…I know where to find you,” Julian finished for him.

“Precisely.”

* * *

 

The End

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading this. I would greatly appreciate any well wishes while I'm struggling to survive my chronic disease. Thanks, wonderful Star Trek fans. Live long and prosper.


End file.
